The Monster Inside Him
by Aishoujo
Summary: Sometimes he'd open the door and peer inside - watching his big-green companion sleep, making sure he was breathing. Tony/Bruce.
1. Chapter 1

He didn't know what was wrong with him. If someone asked him why he did what he did, he wouldn't know what to tell them. Of course, it was none of their business anyway, but if the public did ever find out that the great Anthony Stark, multimillionaire philanthropist, was playing mommy with Mr. Hulkaboo, he probably wouldn't hear the end of it.

Scratch that, he'd have to change his name and move halfway across the world. Afghanistan, perhaps? He wouldn't fall for that one again.

What was he talking about? Oh right. He proposed that it was a simple case of an undiagnosed obsessive compulsive disorder, but Jarvis immediately criticized this theory for nothing less of being a good friend.

He wished it were that simple.

When he asked the team whether they wanted to live under one roof, he did it not because of /that/, but because he felt the team was more useful when they were together. Especially after the whole Loki ordeal which made the city vulnerable to villainous attacks, the city of New York needed them more than ever.

It was quite a shock that they all agreed with minimal convincing. Steve accepted right off the bat although Jane and Hank requested a room for themselves. Clint refused on the basis of his relationship with Black Widow. Bruce, although hesitant, agreed, but stayed back in Calcutta for a few months to help out with some outbreak which threatened the health and safety of the villagers.

He guessed it was the water.

When he came back, they welcomed him with open arms. And Tony immediately showed him a room fit for a king whiched lacked a lock of his own. Though if Bruce knew he was being watched, he probably would have requested for one. After all, the Hulk hated when they didn't treat him as a normal individual on their team and would most probably threaten (someone) or to leave which Stark wouldn't let happen.

He simply couldn't.

It happened a while ago: around the time Bruce came back from India. After a long day of kicking ass and a few glasses of brandy on ice - he opened the door to the wrong room only to stand there - frozen - and watch the unmoving figure on the bed.

After finding his legs, he stumbled in and beside him. Watched in awe - the way his eyebrows knotted together, the way his hands were set(so carefree), palms staring straight up at the ceiling. Though what soon gained his attention was neither his face or his hands, but his stomach - in particular - which failed to move at all.

Quickly, he placed his fingers to his neck and sighed in relief. It was a tad slower than normal, but he still felt it. His hands stayed longer than they probably should have, though when Bruce's eyes threatened open, he quickly took as a sign to get the hell out of there.

The next time he went, he wasn't so tipsy. Stood his ground and watched - intently - at the unfolding events. This time, Bruce's chest heaved - falling back and forth - but Stark rushed in to feel his pulse anyway. It was there. He placed his fingers to his neck pulse and enjoyed the feel of his heartbeat.

Perhaps he was too worried for his own good. After that day, he just couldn't find it in himself to ignore it or him anymore. Often times, he'd find himself staring at the back of his head and/or when the team raced to get a bite to eat at the Super Cafe. Sometimes they were in the lab talking, and he couldn't even concentrate on what he was saying. Rather his lips and how gently they moved as he spoke. Glossed up strawberry chapstick, nice asset.

His expression changed to a blank one as he wandered out of the room and shut the door behind him. He held his back to it and released a breath of air that he didn't realize he was holding. The thought was on the tip of his tongue, but he refused to acknowledge it was there. He terribly needed a drink, and fast.


	2. Chapter 2

For goodness sakes – he scolded himself – as he banged his fists against his head and cursed his very being, hoping in some way it would cease his growing thoughts. It never did. Once Jane caught him in the same position, but she simply shook her head and passed it off as him being drunk which sounded like a swell idea.

Perhaps it was his fault. After all, he could stop going to Bruce's' room and focus on more important things like restoring the team to its former glory. Though whenever he tried, he'd find himself in front of that familiar room again, just.. watching.

Sometimes he'd sleep on his right, other times on his left but most times he'd be on his stomach and he'd seem more relaxed like that. _He'd_ hear a heavy groan and wonder what kind of thoughts infiltrated his companion's subconscious at the time of night – wondering if _he_ ever crossed it. But then his eyebrows would shift downwards, he'd begin to shake, and Tony knew at that point what he was thinking about, but sadly could do nothing about it. Fear of getting caught was more like it.

Sometimes he'd hold his hand close to his and wonder how they would feel wrapped around each other. Was his hand more gritty and rough like the big-green machine? Was it warm like a plugged in computer or cool like a soft breeze in a summers wind? Did he moisturize? Did it make a difference?

For the fifteenth time that day, he felt the need to slap himself. This was becoming more like an obsession – okay, perhaps it went further than that, but you couldn't blame him. He had needs like everyone else. Needs that wouldn't cease till he got what he wanted.

If Pepper was still here, the urge would probably be less. He decided she was the one partly to blame for this.. for these feelings. For breaking up with him. For wanting more out of the relationship. One day, curled up in bed; the topic of children came up and it really wasn't a conversation he wanted in that predicament.

He shrugged the comment off, but she became increasingly angry. As hot as she was when she was mad(and was she ever), he knew it was time to lay off especially since such a sensitive spot was exposed. She questioned him, "Why?" She demanded him to answer so he did.

She was, more or less, a target for anyone who wanted to use her against him.

I can take care of myself, She whined back.

Their children would be also. As much as he wanted them, he wanted to wait until he was better. Stronger.

Why then, she cried, couldn't he just give up Iron man?

"People need me." He simply replied.

They have Superman and Captain America, they don't need you. I need you.

"Where is this coming from?"

He was not aware of the effect he had on her. Okay, maybe he did, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. If she wanted to be with him, she had to accept the responsibilities.

"Give up being Iron man, Stark."

He didn't reply and she broke up with him right away. Perhaps she thought he'd change his mind, but the reality set in when he didn't call her back, when he didn't come to the couch to check up on her, when he pretended nothing was wrong the next day when she offered him coffee and he said yes.

Yes, it was totally her fault, but the large pang of guilt in his stomach told him otherwise.

In the weeks ahead, they were on and off. They would sleep together, but it was never the same. The last time he saw her was five months ago when the team moved in and she hugged them goodbye. He still got phone calls from her, mostly voicemails, of her newfound love for a man she met at her job in Portugal. His name was Walter and he was "fast and handsome and just the most amazing man I've ever met."

He totally wasn't jealous.

Surprisingly, in the coming months, he began thinking of her less and less. And since she was gone, it wasn't like they couldn't see other people. Scratch that, he was free to see who he wanted.

But the scientist – could God really play such sick joke? It wasn't a problem with his sexuality. He already established that he was bisexual. Being gay and straight were practically the same to him though there was nothing in Bruce's file that even pointed to _curiosity_, only to that fact that he was human.

Okay, somewhat human. Something.

He shook his head, he had to push these thoughts out if he didn't want to ruin his relationship with one of the best scientists he'd ever met. And he was, so smart and beautiful, and his personality was simply amazing aside from that one quirk which he was actually very used to by now.

God, he was missing the point here. He and Bruce Banner were nothing more than just friend's. And he was only interested in the concept of him. Not as a love interest, not as a potential bed mate... No Stark, bad!

But as a colleague, as a member of this team.

... He had to see him.

His legs moved on their own - sending a glance to the old grandfather clock that ticked 3:45 in the morning - up the stairs and to _that_ room. He opened the door slowly and peered inside, expecting to see the younger scientist laying on the bed with the sheets covering most of him. The sheets were in a pile, though folded neatly to the side and instead - to his horror and surprise - he was introduced to absolutely no life-form whatsoever.

Panicked, he looked around to see if he was missing anything. He threw the bed sheets on the ground, and glanced out the open window that emitted a night breeze. He doubted the younger scientist even went that way if he didn't want a death wish (though he did). Of course, being the Hulk was an advantage, but he didn't hear a scream that night from any surrounding neighbours nor something breaking.

Did he leave? He wondered, for good? For a few minutes? How long had he been gone? He felt himself panic. What if someone took him?

He had to find him to make sure he was safe. He had too..

He turned to the door that creaked open - looking like a deer caught in the head lights, startled, but once he realized who it was, calm. The sudden horrific thoughts, dying, in place of something new. There was Bruce Banner, the scientist, in all his glory dressed up in a red hoodie which covered most of his face, and his hands were shoved in his baggy jeans pocket. He looked up to take note of his room, and when his eyes fell to Tony, a flicker of surprise caught his face. Tony, himself, had to resist the urge to stare at his magnificent brown orbs and turned away before the man would observe him further and find out his dirty little secret.

He wondered whether it was worth jumping out the third-story window to avoid being questioned by the man. The room was erringly silent, uncomfortable, before Bruce moved passed him and went straight for the bed.

"Where were you?" Tony asked after his initial shock. Bruce sat down to take off his socks.

"Relax, I was out." He said, "We were craving a rice plate or four, so I jogged up to 39th street for some late night shawarma. We've been out since 11."

"Someone was with you?" Tony asked, which made Bruce pause to look up at him.

Oh.

"I bought some extra for you guys. I put it in the fridge for tomorrow - maybe Clint can make a good salad with it or something."

Tony simply nodded his head with exhaustion, as he watched him.

"I'm going to change. Is there something else you wanted? Why are you in here anyway?"

Here it goes. He could feel his throat tense. He swallowed, and he wondered how large his eyes must have looked at that moment.

"Tony. Why are you in here?"

The voice was firmer, still polite like always, but questioning. Something he had been fearing for a while now.

He expected the worst.

"Oh nothing, I was just checking in on everyone to see what they were doing. A little tipsy, yeah, and kind of high too. Huge bad of weed - want some?" He croaked as he was given a strange look, before Bruce rolled his eyes at him.

"I know you're not intoxicated, Tony. We can barely smell any beer on you. Hulk says you're lying."

"Touché, Banner. Did you really only go out for shawarma?"

Curious and accusing stares were thrown at each other. No one said a word. Finally, having enough of the foolishness, Bruce sighed and waited for him to get out.

And everything just came out.

He expected him to get angry. He expected him to be disbelieved and disgusted. He expected his exact words to be, "You've been what? You've been watching me? Damnit Tony, I thought you knew me more than anyone else. I was wrong. I don't want anyone treating me different, but I guess all you see is that green-monster."

He would flinch and go on his knees and tell him to calm down if he didn't want the "green-monster" to break out by force, but in actuality, desperately wanted the conversation to be over.

"Where's the camera? Is Jarvis in on this too? Do you have my own little cell placed in your room so you can watch me like a trophy?"

No, he would yell, stop.

"I'm going back to India."

Heartbreak, devastation, punch - all in one, at least he felt it, evident on his face. But as he opened his eyes and looked upon Bruce, he realized that the man was neither disgusted nor upset, rather he seemed patient and a little tired.

Tony had to remind himself that it was only a replay of a nightmare he had nights before, and Bruce was still here and not threatening to leave.

Yet.

"Since we're being honest here, I guess I can tell you too. I've known it was you from day one. We often smelled alcohol and put two and two together. Who else, out of the house, would drink five consecutive days in a row? I don't even think Captain America knows what vodka is."

Tony blinked.

"I was waiting for you to say something, but you never did. I got to tell you - it took it all out of me not to squirm. Your breathing also made me uncomfortable, but eventually I got used to it. I thought you were just looking out for me or something."

Tony looked down.

"Do you feel better now, Tony?"

He nodded and looked at him. Bruce was smiling now.

Goddamnit, , "Thanks Banner."

"Don't mention it. Now.."

He turned to the door and moved to give him some privacy, but paused at the door as he heard his name being called out.

Panic.

"By the way, why do you come in here?" He turned to give him a look of awe, feeling his muscles tense, feeling something hammer against his arc reactor. He faked a smile.

"And before you lie to me, don't forget me and Hulk have a third-sense about these things. And well, you suck at lying to me."

He blinked and cursed the gods. Cursed Thor, cursed Pepper, cursed Steven Rodgers.

"Come here, Tony."

Tony relented, he had no choice. He moved over to the bed and instead of laying beside him, sat in front of him on his knees and gave him an insistent look.

"You're my best friend. I won't judge you and I promise I won't be mad. But I want to know the reason why you're so scared to leave me alone."

Don't look at me like that, Tony muttered to himself.

"It started on that day when we were all on the helicarrier. We were all shouting at each other, remember?" Noticing his expression which fell slightly told him that he did, "And you looked at Fury and said, "Where? You rented my room?""

Bruce waited for him to go on.

_"The cell was just in case you needed-"_

_"To kill me, but you can't. I know, I tried." Steve and Tony stopped glaring at each other to turn and glance at them - at him - in surprise. Bruce paused to look at everyone realizing what he just said out loud. He was the center of the party now and they were waiting for an answer._

_"I got low, I didn't see an end so.. I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out."_

_They all sent him a blank-stare. It was difficult to empathize, but at the same time not and it took everything in Tony's power not to go over there and hug him. Tell Bruce that everything was okay, and thank the Hulk for saving him._

_"So I moved on, I focused on helping other people. I was good, until you drove me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk. You wanna know my secret Agent Romanoff, you wanna know how I stay calm?"_

"Just.. thinking about it scares me. That one day we'll come into your room and you won't be here. I'm glad that you told us, but I also loath that you did because I'm so fucking paranoid. And I've been blaming it on the drinks for so long, but.. It's not.."

He refrained from telling him after a while – that those thoughts somewhat morphed into something more, and just watching him became even more of an enjoyment for him.

"You remember that day in wide detail, don't you?" Bruce asked him, sounding indifferent, "Yes, I tried to kill myself and yes, I don't regret it, but Tony.. I told you guys that I didn't see an end, and that's why I did it."

"... And now?" He hated that he sounded like such a love-sick puppy, but he couldn't help himself. Bruce had all sort of effect on him now.

"Now.." Bruce paused, "My life.. is the best it has ever been in a long while. I'm just so happy that you brought me here, that I became a member of this team. And I'll be honest, sometimes I become happy at the mere thought that my suicide attempt was unsuccessful."

Tony stared.

"And I have you to thank for that, Tony."

He felt a lump in his throat, but didn't cry. Didn't turn away, his eyes solely on the man whose eyes rested upon his with solemn, with gratitude.

He tried as hard as he can to beat back those feelings that began to resurface and realized it was time to go if he did not want to mess anything up, "I - uh - I should probably go.." He whispered with his head down and started for the door.

"Wait-" He heard and turned to him immediately. Bruce was watching him with a relaxed smile on his face.

_He_ looked upon him with question.

"Would you like to wait here until I fall asleep?"

He stared at him in surprise, he felt his jaw drop slightly, and his arc reactor was possibly glowing from inside his shirt. Jarvis was probably watching and trying to hide his laughter. Romanoff and Clint probably had a few cameras buried deep in the room somewhere. Those assholes.

"You have no idea." He responded with a wide grin. Bruce laughed and waited, ".. - After you dress, right."


End file.
